Confrontation and Revelations
by DaSpec
Summary: Having answered each other's summons, Soul Power and Psycho Power clash. Truths are unveiled. Principles are challenged. Certainties are eroded. Destiny is revealed.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note** : The following story disregards Udon's Street Fighter comic book series, which deviates from the canon of the games. Timeline-wise, this story takes place prior to Street Fighter Alpha/Zero 3. Some events have been modified to fit this story.

* * *

 _A blue flame flickers in the darkness, casting shadowy figures across the face of the world. The flame is surrounded by a slew of jagged emotion. Anger and hatred serve as it's kindling, and as they grow in abundance, the flame grows in size and ferocity. It expands and soon everything around it catches fire. The flame's arms dance wildly, gliding through forests, leaving the landscapes burning infernos. Rivers flow with running fire. Towns and cities are incinerated, and it's citizens unable to quench the blaze, are scorched as well. The horrifying screams of millions fill earth's skies, as the whole world is engulfed in the undying, cold violet flame._

 _Above the burning world, the golden skull spreads its wings and hovers, surveying the carnage below._

* * *

She stood before the building. She stood before it with an uneasy anticipation, knowing she was at the crossroad in which many of the branching paths ended in darkness. A darkness that threatened to engulf the world.

An uncomfortable stillness loomed heavily in the shadow of the warehouse. The aura emanating from within seemed to act like an unstable magnet, attracting and repelling her both at once. It spoke to her, whispering in her ear. _I am here. Seek me out. Let us resolve this._

A cold bitter wind blew, swaying her long violet hair, and Rose adjusted the golden scarf on her shoulders. She entered the decrepit building, committing herself to the dangers of doing so.

The warehouse had clearly not seen use in many years. Dim moonlight shone through the broken windows, and through the gaps in the rotting ceiling, illuminating the rusted metal columns which cast long shadows along the weathered floor. The cracked walls were plastered with colorful, but faded graffiti. There were several wooden crates and empty metal oil drums- some upright and others on their side- scattered throughout. The ground was littered with dried leaves and glass. Rose was sure to avoid them as she made herself towards the center of the warehouse, her high heels clicking on the concrete.

The dark aura continued pulsing in strong waves. This encounter was long overdue. And _he_ knew it as well.

She stopped beside a fallen, rusted metal ceiling panel. She stood there, hands at her sides, closed her eyes and mentally grasped at the surrounding area, feeling her way through the heavy intangible tendrils of black energy, directing her mind's eye to it's epicenter. And then she waited. Another harsh wind blew, rattling the deteriorating structure and rustling the cracking leaves on the floor.

"You've come." The low, chilling voice echoed from somewhere above her. "Who would have expected that a mere fortune-teller could pose a threat, however small, to me."

Rose opened her eyes. "Our meeting was destined. You know why I am here."

Heavy footsteps against metal sounded, as the man stepped from the shadows on an elevated walkway before her. His black cape trailed behind him as he walked, until he stopped, standing behind the guardrail. She gazed up at the large, imposing figure, her spirit strong and unwavering. Large reflective metal plates added to the width of his already broad shoulders. He wore metal plated shin-guards above his black boots and bands of metal covering his wrists and forearms. The color of his military uniform was the same as the blood-saturated waters of a dark future. A service cap of matching color rested on his head. On it was the dreaded golden skull with wings; an insignia which was becoming known to the governments of the world. She looked into the pupil-less eyes of Shadaloo's leader, knowing that the man was to bring about unspeakable pain to the world. She looked at M. Bison, her enemy, for the first time.

He returned her gaze with an amused look. "I care little for the motivations that brought you to me. The fact is you are here, standing before me willingly and that saves me the trouble of hunting you down."

"I've come to divert the course of a dark future from which there will be no return. I've come to ask you to surrender and disband you organization."

Bison let out a bellow of laughter at the sound of her words, his cackling bouncing from the walls of the warehouse. Rose watched, expression unchanged, waiting for the man to end his laughing fit. Bison grinned, flashing his teeth. "Do you know what became of the last woman who displayed such bold stupidity in my presence? She now spends her days following my every command without question. She will grovel at my feet if I order it."

Rose suppressed a cringe. Of the many evils the organization had inflicted on the lives of the innocent, was the horror of stripping away someone's humanity and replacing it with a cold, detached impulse for obedience. Her past encounters with such victims brought up unrivaled revulsion within her. "How many children's minds have you mangled? How many lives have your vile experiments destroyed?" She said, her words laced with disgust.

"Apparently not enough," he replied indifferently. "One of my soldiers has been showing inconvenient behavior after coming into contact with you. Your continued interference in our operations has shown that the Doll Project and some of it's subjects have flaws that need attending to. I have the means to achieve my desires and I will see them done and if it is to cost more lives to attend to those flaws. . ." Bison raised his chin in a display of nauseating pride. "then so be it."

Rose hardened her stare at the man responsible for those atrocities, recalling the dark unnatural influence festering in the young girl's mind. To contest the gloomy thought, she forced herself to feel the indispensable spark of hope that she was capable of counteracting it's effects; the feeling that her capabilities were ultimately the only one's to be able to counteract his.

"That look in your eye," said Bison, "I've seen it many times before. Many have come into opposition with Shadaloo. Politicians, soldiers, even armies. The type of people who believe to be in control. The type of people who believe they have power. Their pathetic attempts to stifle Shadaloo's progress have revealed to them the truth. They are nothing to me. Their actions yield nothing but failure for them, and I remain superior. The number of fighters that have fallen before my might exceeds what I can remember. Even you are a minor inconvenience, a buzzing insect in need of swatting. In time you will be forgotten as well." His sneer was wider than ever. "Now, do you understand the power I hold?"

"The _power_ you hold is tainted."

Slowly, Bison's proud smirk dissolved from his face. He made no reply.

"You've corrupted it," said Rose. "You've abused this gift, turning it into something that it was never meant to be. You've chosen the wrong path."

He stood silently looking at her with a strange curiosity. The subtle change in the expression on his face gave Rose the impression that he was looking beyond her as if her words compelled him to recall an old memory. After a few eerie seconds his laughter broke the silence. "Something it was never meant to be? Foolish woman, it was always meant to be surpassed. I have undone the shackles. No longer is it bound it to it's pitiful state of weakness." He spoke in a voice, loud and triumphant. "I brought the power to full fruition. Hatred, anger, rage; these are the keys to unlocking it's true potential."

"You know nothing of true power," said Rose.

"Psycho Power is true power. It has no equal." He paused. He lowered his head, his cap casting an ominous shadow on his face. "Though, it did not manifest out of nothing. Which brings me to the reason why your very existence annoys me. Tell me Rose, how did you acquire Soul Power?"

Despite herself, Rose tensed.

Part of her was reluctant to engage him in a conversation that had the potential to put her at a disadvantage, however she could not shake the uncanny feeling of solidarity with another being who shared the same gift. There was a possibility to acquire answers to uncertainties that had plagued her for as long as she could remember, but the reality of the situation required her to lead with certainty. The distraction could cost more than what it was worth.

"You had a teacher, didn't you?," he said in a dark tone. "Give me a name."

She widened her stance, adjusted the sash on her shoulders in a swift motion and raised her arms in front of her in a relaxed, but domineering manner. Rose was very much aware that she might very well be sacrificing the only chance she ever really had at finally understanding, but the safety of the future would have to take priority over her curiosities. _I will not allow myself to be distracted from the task at hand. Words will not be of use here._ She prepared herself to do what she knew she would have to from the very beginning. "Shadaloo will fall," she said. "One way or another."

"Heh, you really are a fool." Bison adjusted his cap. "You will tell me what I need to know and then I'll have you begging for death." His eyes glowed in a violent purple light as his feet hovered from the floor. "Psycho Power surpasses Soul Power in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine. So I'll permit you to experience it firsthand." For a split second his body flashed brightly before vanishing completely.

However fast Bison's change of position from the elevated walkway in front of Rose to directly behind her -in this case instantaneous- Rose was able to defend. Bison's glowing fist collided with Rose's Soul Power imbued shawl in a squeal of energy before it could find it's target.

Bison's grinned a belittling grin that seemed to say, _bravo_. Rose glared back with an expression that said, _do not take me lightly._

Rose permeated her whole scarf in a glimmering teal light, briefly recalling the moment in which she was first taught the intricacies of manipulating objects with Soul Power. She pushed away Bison's fist and lashed out with her scarf with a hum of energy. Bison parried it with his forearm in a decisive stroke. She retracted her scarf, directing it around her body in a sweeping motion and back towards Bison at a different angle, but hit nothing but empty air. Bison's body had once again dematerialized in a flash of blue light.

Ever since Rose locked on to his aura, she had remained vigilant to it's fluctuations, consciously aware of even the smallest pressures exerted on it. Transferring one's body from one place to another with no time in between was only one of the many abilities Psycho Power allowed Bison to do. She did not know the full extent of this corrupted power, so it was crucial that she have as much foresight available to her as possible in order to adapt accordingly. She had to remain attentive. She could not let herself to loosen her mental hold on such chaotic abilities.

He reappeared instantly farther away, swinging a Psycho Powered imbued arm and producing a packed sphere of crackling energy speeding towards Rose.

Rose sidestepped it just in time, feeling the immense heat as it flew past her cheek. It collided into a metal beam with a sizzling crash. Without bothering to look up to see the second sphere of energy she knew was rushing towards her, Rose brandished her scarf and in one fluid motion encircled the sphere within the cloth, flowing with it's trajectory, and absorbing it's energy until the orb dissipated into the scarf. In the same continuing motion, Rose brought her scarf in a wide arc to intercept the third deadly projectile. The glowing cloth rippled as it deflected the orb, sending it back to it's master, but Bison was no longer there to receive it. The psycho shot swerved and crashed into a column and the sound of screeching metal filled the area. A large part of the elevated walkway crashed to the ground where Bison was a second before.

Though Rose had not sensed Psycho Power channeled in a way that would have allowed for teleportation, there was a short moment in which Bison's sudden disappearance caused her to assume that he had. In her misapprehension, she prepared to defend from an attack that did not come from where she would have expected it to. It was that mere half a second of misdirected attention, that had put her at a disadvantage. It was almost too late when Rose saw him twenty feet above, plummeting feet first directly towards her at a frightening speed, his black cape whipping wildly behind him. With barely enough time to avoid getting her skull crushed, she concentrated as much energy she could into her scarf and raised it into a position with enough surface area to shield herself.

The sound of the impact echoed through the room, rattling the debris and dust on the ground around them. Rose gritted her teeth as she felt Bison's full weight and momentum fall down on her shawl. A voice surfaced from the recesses of her memory; the voice of a faceless master, harbored in the broken memories of an uncertain past: _The eye is prone to deception_. She cursed herself for making such a careless mistake.

Her knees buckled underneath the massive force. Bison stood straight, arms crossed in a nonchalant manner, before vaulting back off her scarf, twisting his bulky body in the air and coming down on Rose's defenses a second time, leading with the force of Psycho Powered hands instead of the force of his boots.

Rose's scarf collapsed underneath the might of the second strike, it's glow gone in an instant like a light bulb being smashed, allowing Bison's attack to connect with her shoulder. She let out a loud cry of pain as a stabbing fiery sensation spread from the point of impact to her upper arm and chest. Her legs gave in and she fell to her knees, bringing a hand to her injured shoulder feeling as if it had been set aflame.

"Perhaps now you have an inkling of understanding," said Bison. "Or do you still believe you can defeat me?"

Breathing through clenched teeth, Rose looked up to see Bison standing before her having abandoned his fighting stance, his hands interlaced behind his back, relaxed. The pain in her shoulder was scorching.

"Attacks fueled by Soul Power merely numb the points of impact after an initial shock." He spoke as if addressing a student. "Attacks fueled by Psycho Power, on the other hand, have the ability to amplify the capacity to feel pain and over-saturate the nervous system with enough to surpass that threshold even further. Death would be a godsend. Tell me who your master was and I may spare you the torment in exchange for the blessing."

Rose grimaced, barely hearing his words. _Damn it! Get up!_ She grasped her shoulder tightly, willing for the pain to dissipate, and surprisingly, as if her wishes could affect reality, the fire began to subside leaving only the dull but manageable pain of the physical blow. She knew then, that any other individual would have experienced that excruciating agony for far longer than she had. She knew then for certain, Soul Power had the ability to disrupt the effects of Psycho Power. _I am the only one that can stand up to him._

Rose stared at him defiantly. _The eye is prone to deception,_ the voice echoed in her memory once again, this time suggesting a course of action rather than caution, an application to her enemy rather than herself _._ She focused her power inward. "You are not as strong as you believe to be."

Bison frowned. He shot a large hand towards her neck.

Before Bison could reach her, Rose's body flickered, producing two identical, ethereal images of herself flickering on either side, then another splitting from each of those. The moment Bison's grasping fingers came into contact with Rose's body, it vanished in a palpitating glimmer. The remaining four indistinguishable figures went from translucent to opaque and began to rise from their kneeling position in a semicircle around Bison. Rose was now positioned farthest left, at Bison's right flank, having exchanged places with her spectral doppelganger using a technique paralleling Bison's teleportation: the Soul Illusion.

Rose's advance was quick, taking advantage of Bison's initial confusion knowing it would not take him long to acknowledge the liability of his eyes and to truly see her illusion for what it was. "You are but a misguided fool, Bison." Rose's voice rang from four different directions.

"You wriggling worm! Before me, anything Soul Power can contrive amounts to nothing but parlor tricks." Rose could feel the touch of Bison's mind scanning for her among the apparitions. "There you are!"

As soon as he turned to face her, an energized palm slammed into his chin. With a twirl she shot out her scarf, directing it to his temple. The blow staggered him back a few feet. The surrounding apparitions converged into her and without losing momentum, Rose spun with a flourish, unraveled her scarf and released a sparkling green ball of energy from it's fibers speeding towards Bison. "Soul Spark."

Bison recovered in time and with a powerful outward swing of his arm, smashed the approaching projectile. A look of anger flashed across his face. "Soul Power cannot harm me!"

He disappeared and reappeared within arms reach, attacking with a tenacity and speed that immediately forced Rose to focus her full attention on avoiding or deflecting his relentless advance. She backed away, all the while weaving between hot, glowing fists, remaining light on her feet. She ducked underneath a roundhouse, and parried an incoming punch with the edge of her hand, the energies screeching as they canceled each other out. She danced around several empty oil drums, while Bison sent them scattering noisily across the floor. She blocked another charging punch with her pulsating scarf in a hiss of energy, and contorted her body to avoid an axe kick that crumbled the concrete underneath. Streaming lights of purple and blue bounced around the warehouse, the rustle of cloth and crackle of energy echoing against it's graffitied walls.

Rose kept a constant read on the energy being emitted, anticipating Bison's attacks before they happened, but unable to start an offense of her own. Becoming overwhelmed, she soon found herself unable to fuel her defenses properly and fully powered attacks crashed down on her imperfect parries. Her breathing became extensively labored, every direct blow she defended against jarring her entire body. Bison flipped his body, bringing his legs behind him and over in blinding speed to deliver two consecutive kicks on Rose's shawl, barely protecting her from their full force, and sending her skidding on her heels, until her back slammed against the brick wall.

Bison continued to ram against her defenses. Even the smallest graze of Psycho Power was agony. Her soul was strong and she willed the lingering effects away, but she knew that her situation was growing dire at a frightening rate. _I cannot keep this up._ The longer she remained on the defensive side of the exchange, the more certain the world's bleak future seemed.

After taking the brunt of another kick with her upper arm, she directed her scarf to the ground to support her weight, not unlike a walking stick, and pushed away at an angle away from the wall. Once she had gained some distance between Bison and herself and before he could persist in his offense, she focused energy into her palms with a mental fortitude honed by years of training. A spark ignited in each of her hands, quickly forming into spheres of swirling energy. With a flourish she cast them into the air and they began to circle her body in a protective fashion, their ethereal aura producing dancing shadows across the warehouse. Now with the benefit of being able to attack and defend simultaneously, Rose pushed forward.

Bison, unwilling to letdown, walked towards her with pulsating fists. "Nothing but parlor tricks," he spat. Rose shot out her scarf, which Bison deftly avoided. One of the orbs orbited around her shoulder speeding towards him, but Bison was ready for it. "Weak!" With a massive Psycho Powered blow, he shattered the orb into tiny shards of dying light.

Rose saw her opportunity to do some damage, and took it. "Power born of hatred will be your undoing." She grabbed his overextended arm, pulling him close, as the remaining orb swung from behind her hip and exploded into his midsection. His body lurched and Rose brought her scarf up and around, striking him in the jaw, before twirling it around her and shooting a brighter and larger sphere of green energy to his chest. "Aura Soul Spark!" The projectile detonated upon impact in a blinding sparkle of light, sending her foe's body flying across the full length of the warehouse, splintering a stack of wooden crates at the other end.

Rose stood, breathing heavily, on unsteady legs. She held the end of her scarf in a tired grip while the other end bunched onto the floor. A trickle of blood dripped from her brow past the side of her eye from a wound she didn't remember receiving. Between defending from Bison's rush down, and exertion used for her counter strategy, she was nearing both mental and physical exhaustion. The fact that Psycho Power still permeated the atmosphere like thick smoke seemed to weigh down on her even more. She knew that this adversary would be like no other she had ever faced before, but she did not expect her best efforts to feel so inconsequential. _I don't understand. His rage and anger should not have become so untethered as to produce unending tenacity. How can power be sustained in this way?_

Then, before she could even register the sudden angry explosion of energy, Bison appeared before her in a violet flash of light. Rose moved to parry the incoming attack, but was too slow. She let out a harsh gasp, as a sharp, devastating fist struck her abdomen. The resulting unearthly pain spread to every area of her body in fiery electric waves. _How?_ She doubled over in pure agony, dropping her shawl. A hot powerful hand latched around her neck, raised her back up and slammed her onto the floor.

Rose writhed, struggling to pry the tightening fingers from her neck. Psycho Power surged through her body. "Give me a name." Bison growled. His cap had been knocked off in her attack. His black hair was disheveled. His frayed cape hung unevenly from the clasp on his left shoulder. His body steamed with the dark aura of Psycho Power. "Are there others?" Her enemy's eyes were saturated with hate and rage.

 _How is it possible?_ In that terrible moment, unable even to scream, she felt utterly lost. It was as if hope, along with her physical capacity, was being drained away. Then in an inexplicable sense of morbid curiosity, she looked deeper into his eyes, exploring his being. Without a second thought she found herself traversing his soul hoping to discover a weakness, anything that would allow her to escape her predicament.

What she saw frightened her.

The man was built on rage. It was his whole being. Not a trace of empathy or compassion. She searched and searched in vain for the precious vessel that harbored all human emotion that even the most hardened individuals possessed however well sealed or however deep within the recesses of their souls, but could not find it. She could not detect a trace of it anywhere. There was only darkness, hatred and more darkness. The soul was corrupted beyond imagination. _Is this man even human?_

If she did not know it before, she knew it then. Failure was not an option. It was unthinkable.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose caught a glimpse something golden. She stretched her arm, reaching desperately for her weapon, trying her best to tolerate the intolerable waves of pain coursing through her body. She reached and her fingertips lightly brushed the cloth; It was all she needed. The shawl fluttered to life and wrapped itself around Bison's arm. Soul Power spread from Rose's arm, through her scarf and into Bison's body in continuous cackling bursts. His grip loosened enough allowing her pry his hand off of her.

Bison cursed as he backed away from her, emitting a strong wave of energy from his arm, unraveling the scarf from it.

Rose stumbled to her feet, scarf in hand, massaging her neck, still trying to come to terms of what she had just seen within him, or rather what she had not seen. With a soul as dark as his there was no wonder why Psycho Power could persist and persist and destroy in such frightening scales. Rose shuttered at the thought of what could be achieved at the highest degree with such a ready and vast pool of hatred and rage. Nausea threatened to overcome her. "W-What are you?"

Bison's face scrunched up in a mixture of annoyance and anger. He unclasped his cape letting it crumple to the floor and gripped his right wrist as he flexed his right hand, igniting it in a flickering, bluish purple flame. "I am your demise," he growled. The flame spread from his hand to his forearm, to his shoulder and to his chest until the whole of his body was engulfed in the deadly fire. He pushed off his legs, propelling himself forwards. His body flew parallel to the ground rotating in a blinding violet light, leading with an outstretched arm, his open palm directed towards Rose. "Psycho Crusher!"

 _I will not fail!_ Casting aside her anguish, Rose mustered all her remaining strength, swinging her glowing scarf, spiraling it around her arm and lunged forward to meet his attack. "I will not allow your plans to come to fruition! You will not destroy me!" She drilled her scarf-covered fist into Bison's rotating palm. "Soul Spiral!"

Their attacks collided in a thunderous boom, sending whatever was not bolted to the ground around them, whirling into the air. Her scarf and hair fluttered wildly in the whirlwind of energy created by the impact. The concrete beneath them fractured. The screech of energy was high-pitched and deafening. Rose's scarf continued to spiral against Bison's spinning hand, thick streams of free-flowing energy spitting out from the point in which their hands met. Their bodies seemed to be frozen in place, neither giving any ground.

Then, Rose's vision began to blur. She shut her eyes tightly, searching for some hidden reserves of energy, unwilling to acknowledge her limits. When she reopened her eyes what she saw caused her breath to catch in her throat.

She was staring at her own face, contorted with a fierce animosity that she never imagined being capable of, glaring back at her with hot glowing eyes that were not her own. It was as if looking into a mirror that had it's surface chipped and cracked to the point that the image reflected would be an extreme distortion. Yet, the face she saw in front of her was real. When the face's lips curled back letting out a snarl, she felt herself mimic the action.

She blinked in disbelief and found that the face that bore her features had vanished. Bison's enraged face was where it was a moment ago; inches away from her own with a ferocity that illuminated his intent to kill her. Rose tried her best to regain her mental composure, but her ability to focus was dwindling. A white haze began to creep into the edges of her vision. Her mind felt as if it was drowning in a thick liquid.

 _What's happening?_ The white haze intruded even more, shrouding her eyesight.

Suddenly Rose's entire body lost all perception of physical sensation. Then, through the numbness of her senses, she felt a great pain, though It wasn't the fiery pain brought upon by Psycho Power. It was like nothing she had never known before. She screamed as she felt her very soul warp and distort in excruciating agony. She was dimly aware of Bison's roars, above her own hoarse yells.

The white haze obscured her vision completely, and all sounds- the yells and cackle of energy- began to muffle, until nothing could be heard at all. Then the soul wrenching pain stopped as soon as it had come.

Rose was floating in nothingness. Unable to resist, she let herself be drawn to the darkest corners of the vacant space. There was nothing but silence and the eerie feeling that accompanied the dissolution of consciousness into the deepening void. And then no feeling at all.

* * *

His light, rapid footsteps hardly produced sound. The contact between his sneakers and the rooftop was fleeting, a continuous force and swiftness that drove him forward at a speed worthy of the title of Bushin master. As the bearer of the title, Guy was bound to certain duties.

He had initially been drawn to the city by the talk of a renowned local fortune teller said to have quarreled with Shadaloo on several occasions. Gathering any real kind of information on the criminal organization was harder than Guy would have guessed. The few times where he stood to gain concrete details, rather than mere hearsay, he was met with trembling faces unwilling to speak out against a group that had the reputation of making people disappear. Though he did not take much stock in soothsaying, any information provided by someone who had come into contact with Shadaloo agents would prove to be invaluable to his mission. The rumor that this woman was conducting her own investigation regarding the head of Shadaloo, made him want to meet with her even more.

He leapt to another building.

The city of Genoa seemed a pleasant enough place. Of course, it did not take much for any city to seem pleasant to one who had spent considerable time in the crime-ridden streets of Metro City. Guy could have almost allowed himself to appreciate the smell of the salty harbor and the pattern of near and faraway lights that illuminated the city in the late hours of the night, were it not for the sudden surge of dark power palpating against every inch of his being. It was distant, but prominent, disturbing the very air of the city to those with the appropriate sensitivities.

The sudden explosive presence had to take precedence over his plans to seek out the famed fortune teller of Genoa. The impact it had on him was too much to ignore. It was different in many ways than any other form of ki Guy had ever felt before. It felt. . . distorted. . . vile. And if one thing was consistent about the rumors surrounding the leader of Shadaloo, it was that he was in possession of a dark unnatural power capable of terrible feats.

The cold wind blew against his face. Rain clouds had begun to form in the horizon, heavy gray masses in the night sky, their edges illuminated by the moonlight. He leapt between buildings, continuing his venture without misstep.


	2. Chapter 2

_The pupil stands over the hill, looking onward to the horizon. A sense of unease fills his heart, but he wills it away in an instant, clenching his fists with forceful conviction. There is no room for such feelings and will no longer have them after this day. Today is a special day. Today will bring forth the birth of a new man._

 _After today, his mind will no longer be clouded by doubt. No longer will he be saddled with trivial matters. No longer will he be imprisoned by his own mind and body. No. He will set his sights on what truly matters in this world. Only after breaking the shackles and cleansing his mind will he be able to finally see clearly and achieve his full potential._

 _He sets forward, with fiery anticipation, for today will be the birth of a new man._

 _No. Not a man. Something far greater._

* * *

She felt cold and hot, both at once. The colors and vibrations evaporated and for a long while or for an instant- she could not know- there was nothing, until both halves of the same whole molded back together and the colors and vibrations converged once more. . .

* * *

" _I've done what I could with what I have. It's not enough. It's not nearly enough. It has limits. I've found a way to surpass those limits. To undue these restraints of the mind," says the pupil. He feels the palm of his foe as his strike is blocked. He hears the resounding clash of the energies as they impact._

" _It troubles me that you refer to them as restraints, child. It is what makes us who we are," says the teacher._

" _Then I will change who I am! There is power to be had. I've felt it," says the pupil. He feels the rush of warm air as he maneuvers between strikes._

" _What you have felt is a lie. Do not follow that path," says the teacher._

" _You are a fool to avert your eye from from such power," says the pupil. He sees an opening in his enemy's defenses._

" _The eye is prone to deception," says the teacher. "You know this."_

 _The pupil feels a body-numbing blast coursing through him, interrupting his attack. He tastes the dewy grass as he's slammed onto the ground. He hears the whir of resounding energy above him._

" _There has to be a balance in all things. If the scales are tipped all involved will suffer. The power you seek is tainted," says the teacher._

 _The pupil feels anger. He feels hatred. He feels elation as a newfound power courses through his veins. He rises._

" _You mustn't let this power control you. Listen to the part of you that rails against this desire." says the teacher._

" _I will cast that part of me aside," says the pupil. He senses fear in his teacher's voice. He feels rage envelope him in a blanket of fire._

" _Do not do this," says the teacher._

 _The pupil doesn't hear the words. "Psycho Crusher!" The pupil feels a body breaking underneath the force of his attack. He smells blood._

 _He feels the balance of his soul tipping over the precipice, ripping in a white haze. The sounds and images and emotions of a lifetime converge, form together, detach and are extricated. He feels himself tear in two. And then he feels reborn. He feels certainty._

 _He feels darkness. It is all that he feels. All that he is._

* * *

Rose awoke.

She immediately clasped her hands over her ears. It was a futile action, she could still hear her master's screams. She shut both her eyes as tight as she could, but to no avail, she could still see the angry flame. She could still smell the stench of charred flesh. She could still feel the smoldering heat, the ferocious anger, the chaotic fear, and the overwhelming despair.

The overlapping sensations persisted for what seemed an eternity, but eventually they began to secede. The heat dissipated. The smell of death left her nose. The scream withered out, leaving her own rapid breathing as the only sound in her ears.

Rose opened her eyes.

Most of the ceiling had collapsed. The crescent moon shone brightly from behind a black cloud against a black sky. A drop of rain fell on her forehead and then another just below her eye. She let her head fall to the side, the surface of the ground rough against her cheek. She was laying on the cold floor, pieces of rubble and debris around her. How long she had been lying there, she did not know.

A rustle and the light clang of metal sounded nearby. She craned her neck, her body aching as she did so, to see the figure of a large man rising from beneath a twisted metal beam. He stood hunched, staring blankly at nothing in particular, muttering to himself. Her mind shifted erratically and continuously, as if a steady rush of static ran through her brain, unable to pinpoint or identify a particular thought out of the many that swerved in her head.

Rose placed her palms on the cold floor and with great effort, began to pick herself up. Her aching body protested with even the smallest movement, expending energy it did not have. Disoriented and unable to maintain proper balance, she collapsed back onto the floor. Never taking her eyes off the muttering man, she dragged herself to a nearby metal column and leaned her back against it, trying to regain control of her breathing.

 _M. Bison._ The name detonated in Rose's mind. A shiver ran down her spine. She forced herself to speak; a mere whisper between breaths. "Y-You. . . How?" It was all she could manage.

Bison paused. He turned his head in annoyance, as if he had just been disturbed. A long uncomfortable moment passed as he stared. He grinned. He grinned his unnerving dark grin and laughed. "Interesting. Very interesting indeed. I. . . never would have expected this."

"That was. . . I do not understand. . ." her voice trailed off.

"You've seen the master's demise. You've seen it before haven't you?" His breaths were slightly uneven.

Rose did not say anything. She did not know what to say.

"You remember it. You have a recollection of it happening. Though seeing it by way of a fragmented memory and experiencing it firsthand are two very different things aren't they?" He grimaced. He brought a hand to the side of his head as if he were coping with a headache.

Her thoughts continued to race, ghostly images coming in and out of focus, confusion permeating her mind. And yet, there was a clarity that had not been present before. An undoubtable clarity like a splash of ice water. Her eyes widened.

"You see it now, don't you. You feel it's pull." Bison smiled. "I feel it too."

And Rose could. "It was you." She could feel the tug on her soul. The steady push and pull which had been intensified by the void moments before. "It had always been you."

"Inheritance." Bison straightened his posture, bringing his shoulders back accentuating his powerful chest. "It is by way of inheritance that you have those abilities. I undid my shackles -the memories and abilities and emotions of a lesser being- and they latched on to you. To think _that_ part of me still existed. The part of me that heeded his masters warnings and treasured his approval. The part of me that was too weak to seize the power staring him in the face. The part of me that found a home within you reflecting every bit of the weakling that I was. It disgusts me."

She understood. For better or for worse, she finally knew. They were his memories, his life, his emotions and experiences. Memories of happiness, anger and sadness from moments she knew she had never experienced. The innate knowledge and ability to manipulate Soul Power, it was all his. The past life she was always vaguely aware of having lived, even as a child, was the life of the man threatening to destroy the world. All that she was, was what he had been. And now she finally knew. "How? How did this happen?"

"Fate. Destiny. Random chance. Consult your cards, read the heavens, gaze in to your crystal ball if the reason matters so much to you." He took a deep steadying breath and then said in a low voice, "I know all I need to know." He took a step forward, and then he took another, splashing into a puddle of water.

Rose only then became aware of the increasing droplets of rain coming through the gaping hole in the ceiling of the warehouse, splashing on and around them. She watched as the man-turned-fiend continued his approach. She tried to pick herself up once more. Her hand came across something smooth, soft and damp. She grabbed her wet scarf from underneath a crushed oil drum and slowly got to her feet. A wave of dizziness rocked her as she rose, her overall movements imprecise and sluggish. Bison continued to walk towards her, each step more menacing than the last.

Rose attempted to prepare whatever Soul Power she could muster. But something was wrong. She couldn't bring forth the power within her. It was there, she could feel it just barely out of reach, but it was as if something was blocking the channel to her abilities. She had been twisted and turned, stretched and warped to such an extent in the ordeal that her flow was skewed. She felt strange. She felt uneven.

The rain was falling harder now, filling the warehouse with it's relentless pitter-patter and wetting both of them. Bison took another step towards her and Rose took a step back. "I never meant for that part of me to survive," he said. "Now that we've come full circle, it's time for me to correct that mistake." She made a move to block Bison's arm, but he swiped her wrist away with ease. He slammed his hand around her neck with a grip tight enough to lift her feet from the floor, but not enough to stifle her breathing completely. "This time I want to hear your screams until they wither away under the might of Psycho Power."

 _Is this my destiny? Is this. . . our destiny?_ Rose waited for agony to flood her body. The rain poured. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The pain didn't come.

Rose looked at Bison. It was then that she noticed the distinct lack of purple embers burning in Bison's eyes. Bison's cruel smile turned into a dark scowl. Rose blinked in realization.

"What is this?" he growled. He slammed Rose's back against the column. "What did you do?" His grip began to tighten. It seemed the inability to access her power was not a complication exclusive to her. Whatever was ailing her, was effecting Bison as well. They were both seemingly experiencing the same sort of blockage.

Rose dug her fingernails into his hand, all the while reaching and ramming against the contortions that disrupted the flow of Soul Power within her. She inched her way closer than before, but her power remained untapped. Her soul was still mending itself, recovering from the violent merging and subsequent tearing, as was Bison's.

Bison forcefully swung his arm to the side, throwing Rose onto the ground. Her body slid several feet on the wet floor before coming to a halt. She was drenched. Her dress clung to her body. She looked at him passed thick, moist strands of hair that hung across her face.

Grinding his teeth, Bison flexed his hands and fingers without avail. His body shook in anger, but he was unable connect the anger to the Psycho Power within him. He walked up to where she lay, glaring at her. "Your soul is a poison. It's time to end this little reunion." He raised his boot over her head. "You can rest assured that the dark future you have foreseen will indeed come."

Rose shut her eyes. A clash of thunder boomed. And for the second time in mere seconds, pain did not come to her when she had expected it. She opened her eyes.

Bison was now standing several feet away, annoyed as ever, staring, not at her, but at someone else. She followed his gaze to a man garbed in a sleeveless, red martial arts training uniform, standing with his back to her. She watched as he charged towards Bison.

It seemed that fate had presented Bison with a new challenger, along with a new opportunity for Rose to fulfill a destiny she was no longer certain of.


	3. Chapter 3

The old warehouse was in the southern part of the city, located along a small run-down harbor. It had not taken him long to reach the source of the dark vibrations, but had he been delayed any longer, the scene in which he now found himself would have had one less actor.

The curious sight of a lone woman at the mercy of a cold-blooded man's anger had not been enough to deter his volition or throw him off balance. He knew that he would have to be prepared to act quickly and decisively, whatever the situation, and he had done so. The woman was still breathing. And Guy was locked in battle.

He exhaled. A flurry of fists and palms splashed through the droplets of rain. The man's uniform was ragged. The metal plates on his shoulders and forearms bore scratches and small dents. The disarray of the surrounding area: shattered concrete, twisted metal, and splintered pieces of wood, all suggested a recent struggle involving considerable power. It seemed as if the man had endured a harrowing battle, but the damage to his attire did not match the damage to his person. The man moved without any sign of physical discomfort, though a look of stark irritation was bleeding from his eyes. He was fast; much faster than he appeared. His large frame did little to hinder his ability to keep up with Guy's attacks and even respond with his own.

Had the woman been a combatant? He had only caught a glimpse of her when he ran into the warehouse before knocking her antagonist away from her, but it was apparent that the she was physically incapacitated. Her well-being was a definite concern, but he could not turn away, even for a second, from the immediate danger before him. For the time being, he would have to take solace in the sound of her steady breaths beneath the unabating notes of the rainstorm.

The downpour was steady with occasional gusts of cold wind entering through the large side windows. Guy paid it no mind and continued to engage his enemy, the man he knew to be the head of Shadaloo. Guy's axe kick and subsequent underhand fist were blocked.

"Whoever you might be," M. Bison growled through clenched teeth, "know that to challenge me, is to forfeit your life."

Like every other miscreant in a position authority Guy had faced in the past, from the leader of petty street gang to the overseer of a city-wide criminal enterprise, the man exuded an ignoble self-absorption. However, Guy would be a fool to treat him as he did any of his past adversaries. He was aware that this man's conceit may very well be validated by his combat prowess. He expected such from the Corrupter of the ages.

Guy leapt aside from a knee strike.

He had not believed it very likely that he'd find him so soon, especially after his initial efforts to find any leads on Shadaloo's operations had been unsuccessful. But the moment had arisen and with it the opportunity to fulfill his mission.

Guy attacked from multiple angles with swift, rapid strikes. M. Bison fought back with an angry intent, clearly infuriated with the new challenger. Guy avoided a counter elbow strike and drove his fist into M. Bison's abdomen. He barely seemed to feel it and responded with a cross. Guy sidestepped it, but felt a powerful roundhouse kick connect with his shoulder. He suppressed the pain and managed to raise his forearms to defend a second kick a split second before it collided with his head. The force of the blow shook him, and pushed him back. Without resisting the momentum, Guy swerved away from another cross punch, planted his feet on an inclined wooden pallet, and pushed off of it into the air, swinging the heel of his foot towards Bison's head. Bison deflected the kick with a fist, turning as he did so, to charge at Guy as he landed.

Very few fighters could compete with Guy's speed, but Bison was was able to do more than just keep up with his attacks. He was a formidable foe and Guy needed to keep a strong mind to claim victory, but an unsettling feeling had begun to creep over him as the fight progressed. Several of M. Bison's attacks were abnormal. They seemed as if they were in some way incomplete or partial. That, coupled with the distinct absence of the dark aura that Guy had felt in full force earlier was something that could not be ignored. The idea of that Bison could be holding back was almost inconceivable given his strong performance. Was that really the case? No. Despite this competent display, it was possible Bison was fighting in a weakened state. Guy had to remain wary either way.

Guy parried a palm strike and went to counter. His enemy lifted a forearm, intercepting the back-fist and followed up with a wide arching kick. Guy swayed his head back, feeling the air and spray of rainwater as M. Bison's foot passed inches away from his nose. Guy continued to engage, relying on the speed of his offense and defense to overwhelm and overcome his opponent.

After a series of intricate maneuvers from both parties, Guy's shin locked up against Bison's forearm. Thunder crashed and lightning shook the rainy night, its flash illuminating the two figures for an instant. Guy took notice of Bison's fierce, empty, white eyes hovering over his torso. Bison then looked up from the characters stitched onto Guy's lapel and spoke. "I see. . . the Bushin-ryu practitioner." Thunder rumbled once more. "The newly ordained master. The 39th heir."

Guy raised an eyebrow. _How?_

"Guy, is it?" Bison pushed forward and forced Guy back with a series wide swinging kicks.

Bison's deciphering of the Kanji on his uniform was not particularly surprising, and it wasn't completely inconceivable that his name could be known especially after his role in the events of Metro City, but the fact that Bison could identify him by his title, the 39th master of Bushinryu Ninpo, was deeply unsettling. His newly obtained rank as grandmaster was not something that should've yet been known to anyone outside of a few select individuals. To have such information. . . Shadaloo's reach was proving to be far greater than Guy had anticipated. The surprise, however, did nothing to impede his recovery and advance. He struck away Bison's boot and shot his body forward in a full-blown sprint.

Still, Bison's words continued to stimulate Guy's concerns. "Bushinryu has been on our radar for quite some time now," he said, "long before Shadaloo has been on yours." He threw a punch, but Guy was able to dodge.

Though Guy had known about Shadaloo's interest in renowned fighters, Bushinryu practitioners, who traditionally fought their battles from the shadows, were hardly prestigious. Perhaps his escapades in America had indeed been too explicit. He _was,_ after all, considered one of the heroes of Metro City even though it was not something he approved of.

After a shoulder feint, Guy flipped over Bison.

He wondered to the extent of Shadaloo's interest in Bushinryu. How much insight did this organization actually have? Given that Bison knew of the novelty of Guy's position within the Bushin-ryu ranks, it was almost certain that Shadaloo had information on his predecessor. What about other practitioners? What about Maki? The thoughts were indeed troubling, but as his jumping hammer-fist collided with the metal bracer on Bison's forearm, Guy realized that they would not serve him well in that moment.

"Under normal circumstances," said Bison, parrying a fist an instant before it could smash his nose, "I'd keep you alive for the study of the ancient fighting art, though your interference has angered me. You will die, here and now."

After another blocked back-fist, in an over-eager attempt to connect an attack, Guy overreached.

Bison recognized the slight overextension and chambered a fist, unwilling to let his opponent's mistake go unpunished. "A pitiful attempt. Is this really the extent of Bushin-ryu?" he said with an eerie glow in his eyes.

With a dire sense of urgency, Guy twisted his torso and retracted his arm with rash speed, managing to stop the incoming fist with an open hand. A fiery, electrifying sensation coursed from the palm of his hand through the length of his arm, and for an instant, nothing else existed in his mind. His defenses disabled by pain and shock, Guy received the full brunt of an uppercut to the chin. He was lifted from his feet and the following kick sent his body hurling back some distance onto the wet floor with a splash.

Guy's ears rang. His arm shuddered. _What was that? Ki manifestation? No. Something different._ It pained him to breathe. The kick had landed on the lower part of his ribcage. _A possible fracture,_ he thought. He began lifting himself from the floor, but the action intensified the pain in his side, and he reflexively clutched at it. _A definite fracture. Two broken ribs._ Rainwater and blood dripped from his chin into the pool of water beneath him.

Guy looked back in alarm, expecting to see his enemy pressing his advance on a downed opponent, but instead Bison had not moved. He was doubled over as if injured, as it was he who had been struck. His attention was on his hands, rigid with outrage. "Damn her!" He shut his hand tight and brought his knuckles to the ground with all of his weight behind it, smashing the concrete. "That wretched woman!"

Before Guy could contemplate such peculiar behavior, a voice spoke, "Much of his power is still in disarray."

Guy turned. It was the woman. She was on the floor in front of him, leaning on an unsteady elbow, staring passed Guy's shoulder at the crime lord behind him. Clutched in her hand, was a long golden cloth, wet from the rain.

"But certain pockets are becoming available to him," she said in accented English. Her voice was hoarse and weary. Her eyes shifted to Guy. "Leave now. You will be unable to stop him once he regains full use of his Psycho Power."

Guy looked at the woman. Her long dark and wet hair clung messily to her face. Her left cheek was streaked with blood and her upper right shoulder bore a large bruise. She had the appearance of someone who had paid the greater toll in an intense quarrel. Her fanciful attire, torn in several places, was not that of a fighter or martial artist -far from it actually- but the eyes that bore into Guy's very soul, were the eyes of a warrior with conviction. They were the eyes of someone who would understand that Guy could not abandon this fight.

He allowed himself to feel the pain of his injuries for another half-second before mentally pushing the sensations to the back of his mind, forgotten. "My obligations do not allow for such an action," he said to her. He rose to stand on firm feet.

She looked up at him with admonishment, tightening her grip on the cloth, and for a moment, Guy thought he saw a dim glow emanate from the fabric. She muttered something inaudible. Guy turned to face Bison once again. He wasn't incurious about who the woman was or the extent of her involvement, but his focus had to remain on his current undertaking. He was ready for the next round.

Bison looked up from the cracked ground underneath him. He glared at Guy, then to the woman, then back again. "You will suffer a painful demise," he spat. "There won't be a 40th successor to the Bushin discipline after your death. I will make certain of that!"

Guy sprinted forward. "Your words have no meaning to me."

Guy's jumping axe kick and spinning back-fist were blocked and dodged, respectively, but Bison was uncharacteristically slow to react to the crescent kick which struck his temple. It was a solid strike, enough to crumple a fighter of decent caliber, yet the crime lord stood with a fierce grimace on his face. A grimace that was made more misshapen by the newly formed crack across his right cheek trailing from the corner of his left eye. A hot violet light pulsed beneath the surface of the wound. This was not an ordinary laceration.

Bison gave an angry roar and retaliated with a barrage of hand strikes, several of which gave off violet sparks.

Guy's arm tingled through the mental vessel in which he had cast his physical discomforts in. _Psycho Power. The Corruptor's power_. He decided to consider the woman's words. He had to end this fight fast. "You know of Bushin-ryu," said Guy pivoting passed Bison's buzzing fists, "which means you must know that your actions have marked you as the Corruptor of this human age in the eyes of the clan. Wherever evil threatens the world, the shadow of Bushin will be there to deliver swift justice."

"I have heard enough of this never-ending sanctimonious babble from her." The angry contortions of his face widened, and the jagged violet line on his cheek expanded passed his chin and to his neck. "I will not endure it from you as well!"

Seeing an opening, Guy swept at Bison's feet. Bison stepped away, but before he could counter Guy followed through with the full motion of his sweep redirecting his movement upwards, taking to the air. "Bushin Senpukyaku!" The first rising spin kick broke passed Bison's defense, allowing the following kick to connect to the side of his head and after another full rotation, another to strike again.

Bison stumbled back, but remained standing. The throbbing veins on Bison's neck and forehead were made visible, but were eclipsed by the dozen red-hot, newly formed fissures tracing the entirety of his face. The muscles of his arms bulged through his uniform. "I'll send you to oblivion!" His hands opened and closed, his forearms contracting and constricting and his right hand flickered in a purple light that seemed to break the skin of his knuckles and fingers. His eyes began gleaming, wide with violent embers as fierce as the fractures across his face.

Guy's sense of danger immediately multiplied as the black sickening aura that had drawn him there pushed against his being in full force. This is the power that he had felt earlier but now at an unimaginable scale. _Psycho Power!_

Bison raised his arms, hands opened and tensed, and a discharge of energy danced around his body. Rain turned to steam before it could fall on him. "This ends now!" He brought his arms down and out with great force and a sphere of blinding light exploded from his body, crumbling the floor beneath. "Perish!"

The ground shook. The air immediately grew hot with the permeation of Psycho Power. The hot sphere of energy expanded in every direction from where M. Bison stood. Concrete rippled and gave way as the explosion tore at the ground.

Guy braced himself. There was nothing else he could do.

Just then, before being engulfed, a rustle and flap of fabric passed by Guy's ear. As M. Bison's attack closed in on him, a streak of blue light clashed with the wall of violet energy, and expanded against it, nullifying its destructive effects. Both the blue and purple glow vanished in a whining pitch from the area in which they met, creating a gap in the explosion. Small pieces of concrete shot up at him, as the disrupted wave of energy passed him by, tugging at his uniform and hair, but leaving him unharmed. It continued to expand behind and all around him, thunderously consuming everything in its path -wood, concrete, steel, the remaining walls of the warehouse- and then it sizzled away.

He lowered his arms. The sight before him was a hellish one.

The standing figure of M. Bison was shrouded in a bluish-purple flame. Most of his uniform was singed. His skin was charred and severely fragmented, from his face, to his muscled chest and arms. The entirety of his body resembled an infernal, crumbling mosaic. And the palpitations of Psycho Power were as prevalent as ever.

The woman, making an effort to remain upright, stood in front of the glowing demon.

M. Bison's eyes emitted nothing but fiery hatred towards her with a desire to see her suffer. It was plain he wanted nothing more than to reach out and inundate the woman in his limitless power. And yet there was a tether to his impulses. A hesitation. He did not do what he so clearly wanted in that moment. He twitched. His scarred face betrayed an apprehension. A budding worry that was overriding his primal desire to kill. And it began forming into an unbearable concession. A semblance of defeat? Guy considered the thought.

Then something happened that caused Guy to reassess the situation. M. Bison let out an angry bellow and Guy immediately felt the alarming stimulation of Psycho Power disrupt the air once again. This was not good. Fearing a second explosion, Guy's mind began quickly running through his options. He had to react quickly. As impossible as it seemed, he decided he would have to outrun it. But there was another variable he had to take into account; the woman. She had not moved and he could not leave her to perish. Even if it cost him precious time to reach her, he somehow had to get her and himself clear of the deranged madman before another detonation.

But before Guy could take any kind of action, the form of M. Bison lit up, obscuring his features completely. _No!_ Guy felt Psycho Power converge to M. Bison's position adorning him in even more light and energy. The air around him crackled and a high-pitched hum reverberated in the area. The violet blaze reached peak levels and then abruptly collapsed in on itself. The accumulated energy was rapidly pulled inwards into a dark, swirling void and then it vanished.

There was no second explosion. The aura of Psycho Power was gone. As was M. Bison.

The remnant of his roar echoed for another brief moment and withered away. Everything, even the falling rain which was beginning to die down, appeared to remain uncomfortably still. For a moment, Guy stood perplexed- _what just happened?_ \- until his relentless instincts brought him back from the brink of contemplation. It would be unwise to discount the possibility that this whole spectacle was just a deception tactic. Though the aura of Psycho Power was no longer disrupting the air around him, it had to be assumed that Bison was suppressing it like before and was still present. He could very well be planning to-

"He is gone," said the woman.

Guy blinked. "Gone?"

"Teleported," she responded. "Miles away."

 _What?!_ It was getting clearer to see, though M. Bison was still nowhere in view. There was no sign of him except for the destruction his attack had caused. The crater was expansive. The decrepit structure that was barely holding together before was now all but decimated. The walls had been blown apart and only several sections of the lower half of its bent and twisted frame remained standing. "Teleportation? You are certain?"

The woman did not turn. The grip on her scarf remained tense. "Yes."

To be sure, Guy's concentrated efforts to detect Bison's personal aura confirmed he was no longer in the vicinity. Still, uncertainty weighed in on in his thoughts. He had only ever heard of one fighter who could transfer his physical body from one area to another instantaneously, but to be able to do so between a distance of miles. . . did the Corruptor really have such capabilities at his disposal? Could such a feat have been achieved by harnessing the expenditure of energy that he had just witnessed? There was much Guy did not yet know and he could not make sense of the situation on observation and speculation alone.

He fixed his attention on the woman. But before he could give voice to his curiosities, she staggered and fell to her knees. She hung her head.

Guy looked at her, observing the way the light raindrops fell on her kneeling form. Her hair glistened in the dim moonlight allowing him to notice its dark violet hue. He walked forward and, being mindful of the injury to his midsection, lowered to one knee beside her. "You are not well."

Her head remained bowed. She said nothing.

He offered her his hand. "Come," he said.

She did not make an effort to take it. She remained as she was, her breathing slow and rhythmic.

Guy withdrew his hand. The shower of rain had diminished to a light drizzle, its quiet pitter patter slowing to a dying tempo. He looked to the center of the crater. "Where has he gone?"

"Far," she said, breaking her silence.

It was a terse, detached response. Understandable perhaps, given her condition, but it told him nothing. It _was_ best if she recuperated first before answering his questions, but being engaged in battle with the Corruptor only for him to slip away in the end, left Guy longing for information. Questions plagued his mind. There were many unknown elements surrounding the situation and the woman was one of them. He studied her. She was weary, that much was clear, but clearer still was that something greater than exhaustion or even injury bore heavy on her. "Who are you?"

Her thoughtful expression hardened. She did not respond.

 _Psycho Power. Teleportation_. This woman had vital knowledge. Perhaps vital ability as well; the power which was made apparent when she had somehow made use of her scarf to intercept M. Bison's blast and dispelled its effects. It was not an essence he'd ever sensed before, but unlike M. Bison's, it did not exude malice. "His power, along with yours," he said, "they are not drawn from ki. I must know what your connection is with him."

Those words seemed to engage her attention in a way no other words before did. She raised her head to face him. "Do not involve yourself in these matters any longer. This is my battle and mine alone." There was an intensity in her eyes as she spoke.

Guy stared. His curiosity stirred. He spoke. "This man and the organization he leads is not a danger exclusive to you. You _do_ realize the enormity of this threat, don't you?"

"More than you know." She responded in a sharp tone. "I have foreseen the world engulfed in Bison's shadow. Fire, death, misery and darkness. Believe me when I say it is you who knows nothing of the dangers this monster is capable of."

 _Foreseen?_

She continued. "What you've witnessed here pales in comparison to what he is planning, The worst is yet to come and if I do not stop him, everyone will suffer. This man, the nature of his being. . . the. . .the nature of. . ." Her voiced trailed off as a somber discomfort seemed to fall upon her.

By then, the rain had completely stopped. Guy rose from his kneeling position. "I was ill-prepared for this fight tonight. I do not intend to remain ignorant of my enemy's capabilities."

"Your preparation is irrelevant," she said. "You cannot defeat him and what is more, you are not destined to."

"You believe _you_ are destined for this task?" asked Guy.

"I will not deviate from my destiny," was all she said.

Guy thought for a moment and realized the irony of his situation. The way she spoke of destiny and of having foresight of a world covered in shadow and death was telling. On reflection, she even fit the descriptions he had heard of her; long violet hair, an affinity for elegant attire, attractive. "I initially came to this city seeking a fortune teller named Rose who is known to have information on Shadaloo. Now more than ever, I must have whatever information she can give."

"She has nothing to say to you, but to abandon your pursuit."

Guy narrowed his eyes. "Understand that I will not stand idle while evil threatens the world."

The woman named Rose met his gaze with an aggravated glare and held it. Then something changed. Guy registered hostility. A flash of yellow entered his vision. He quickly shifted, avoiding the glowing cloth as it passed by his torso. His eyes instinctively followed its trajectory as it twirled around the rising woman and back towards his head. He swerved his head clear of the fortune teller's scarf. _Unwise. She thinks she can challenge my spee_ \- the thought was interrupted as he felt her palm on his forehead. It was a light touch rather than a strike, but from that touch, a shroud of numbness expanded to his entire body. His body rose from the ground, hovering in midair, surrounded by a ghostly blue aura. He tried to move, but found that he could not.

The fortune teller was standing, her devious scarf now resting on her shoulders. Her arm was outstretched, her glowing hand inches away from his face, trembling. He looked beyond her hand and, illuminated by the light she had conjured to confine him, saw an alluring face whose features emanated a disturbed solemnity. "Forgive me for this," she said.

With those words, his muscles seized up as an eerie sensation robbed them of feeling, and went limp with an unnatural heaviness. She released her supernatural hold on him and his immobilized body fell forward. She steadied him against her chest, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. "You must trust that I alone am the one who can destroy him," she said. His vision darkened as he was enveloped by a heavy cloud of tranquility. "Leave Bison to me."


End file.
